


Condemn him to the infirmary

by orphan_account



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: hmmmmmm, i didnt reread this so..............., idk. this is written p badly????, im just a local kinnie, so i tried to do . A Thing, y. you can tell what song i listened to while writing this GKGDGHGIDSDGh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-06 06:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14050956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Someone help me understand what's going on inside my mindDoctor, I can't tell if I'm not me"





	Condemn him to the infirmary

_Outside, the moon is currently shining upon all of those that inhabit the Earth, and the stars litter the sky as if they were freckles upon one's body. The nighttime is drastically different than the daytime- for when the sun is up, there is nothing but absolute cacophony, while the night offers peace and quiet. It is imagined that those rebellious night owls relish this time for that exact reason._

_However, for the RED Spy, nighttime is both a bless and a curse. The quiet and peace is always nice; it's something he craves oh so desperately. Yet, it's the time of day where he's alone with nothing but his thoughts. It's also the time of day where at the foot of his bed, just when he's about to drift to sleep, he can see monsters. It's only then, his heart beats furiously against his chest, and it's even worse when he can feel their claws digging into his skin as they say the nastiest things to him. He swears that one of these nights, those claws will tear off his flesh, and laugh at his misfortune. That's why he does his best to pull off all-nighters to avoid sleep, even though that isn't exactly the healthiest option on dealing with his problems._

_He doesn't know why he's like this. He doesn't know why his brain is the way it is. He doesn't remember a good chunk of his childhood; truthfully, it's all a blur to him. What was his father like? What was his mother like? Did they give him enough attention? Did they give him enough love? He doesn't know. He doesn't remember. He's not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that he doesn't remember much of his younger years, but what he does know for sure is that he's desperate to know, for it could possibly give him an answer as to why he is the way he is, why he does the things he do, and why he thinks the things he think._

_But for now, he'll just have to settle on not knowing and desperately trying to dig up memories._

_His room is dark, save for the light that pours into his room due to no curtains covering his window. He s_ _its on the edge of his bed, his now lit cigarette tucked in between his index finger and middle finger. He brings the cigarette up to his lips, taking a deep drag of it. The smoke feels like a warm blanket wrapped around his lungs. When he exhales the smoke, the warm feeling in his lungs suddenly disappear, as well as the comforting feeling that came with it. It's an unhealthy addiction indeed, but it calms him down, especially on nights like these. He doesn't care if it kills him in the long run._

_He doesn't care about anything at all._


End file.
